Imperfection One: An MNC novel
by Kvalheim
Summary: A novel by Kvalheim of the UberEnt forums. A Pit Girl is created with one flaw - her personality is entirely unique. Is it an accident, or are mysterious individuals at work?


"_I have a lot of faith that you'll deliver, and it would be wise that you make sure this goes well."_

"_Don't worry, ma'am. We've got the backing of all the major companies, if anyone can afford a venture like this, it's us."_

"_You had better be right. I'm sinking a lot of money into this project, and I guarantee I –will- take you and your whole damn studio into the ground if this fails. And not even your fucking chicken will be able to stop me."_

**IMPERFECTION**

Part One

Lilly (kvalheim) Clayton

A Monday Night Combat Story

**Prologue**

April 2, Year 3040

Darkness… the world seems clouded, empty thoughts appear as soon as they disappear, and fuzzy voices are heard.

"Routine birthing again? I thought we had enough of these for the teams, and it's not like we need to replace 'em every five minutes like the Sparks and 'Sins."

"Naah, nah man, this aint for the show. Hell, I dunno where this one's going, 'cept that some big shot upper class is paying us a ton for this. And what the fat cats want, they get."

Muffled laughter. Things start to become clearer, the glass tank distorting two hunched figures operating machines. It feels like drowning, but air still flows into fresh lungs. The figures leer forward, and then hurry back at their machines.

"Well, quit staring', you know she ain't real. Go get to it, Mick just called down, we need a whole new set of those new pros spawned in for the new season. They want to add another pair of teams for some special four-way shows and they need in within the next hour."

"'aight man, just just… gimme a sec. Son of a- the personality replicator is on the fritz, -again-."

"Seriously? Well, no time to fix it… If anything goes wrong, well, at least this isn't Assassin."

"Yeah, I mean, the hell a rogue Pit going to do? Releasing the clamps, and I'll send it down to the pens, least let it meet the other Pro's before we ship it off."

A loud noise, a bang, and the water rushes out of the prison. It's clear now, a tube, a glass womb acting as packaging for another product. Before even taking a breath, the world becomes dark again.

It was several hours later and deep within the back rooms of the Monday Night Combat training grounds, there sat a young girl in a small grey concrete room. She was slender, fair skinned, and her hair was a long deep brown that she quickly tied up into two ponytails. Her eyes were a deep hazel, and stared curiously around, a sort of uncomfortable expression as she tried to piece together where she was. There was a sort of similarity one could see between her and one of the standard Pit Girls, but this one was younger, couldn't possibly be more than 19, and wore a plain vest and shorts, no team markings. A small speaker in the top corner began to buzz, and a monotonous voice, similar to a certain trademark commentators but much less… lively, began to drone out.

"Welcome to your stasis cell. You have been commissioned under order of a donator to Monday Night Combat, but for the next [two-thousand-seven-hundred-and-sixty] days you will be grown alongside the regular stock. This message is brought to you by Regenitol."

The girl in the room stood up, and peered around. Her mind was effectively blank, but already this seemed like a cage, but was yet to be seen as either a safe confined space or an inescapable fortress.

She looked over to a small sliding glass door, and upon opening it revealed rack upon rack of identical low-cut vests and shorts, a closet full of tools, belts, boots and gloves lying adjacent to it. They too had no team colour, instead manufactured in a neutral beige and white. As she changed, the door slid open, and strangely enough, a small floating bot approached, similar in appearance to a slimbot but neutral coloured and with a small monitor in the head. It simply displayed a small notice, "YOU ARE NEEDED IN FOOD DISTRIBUTION ANNEX"

This flashed several times, before the Bot returned to wherever it had come from. The young Pit simply nodded silently, and once changed, stepped out into a long, LONG corridor. A line of fluorescent red arrows dotted the floor, and an identical line of blue arrows ran parallel in the same direction. A holographic sign on the wall read "Destination: FDA and Recreation", flickering a few times, before turning into more arrows that demanded to be followed. A small group of red bots sped past along the similarly coloured path, and she decided to follow, cautiously examining the path in curiosity, like an infant child.

Eventually, she approached a large room, far too large for the five or six brightly coloured Pros sitting at grey metal tables. The girl took a few more steps, and as she did so, one of the strangers, the Assassin, stood and walked away with a sneer.

The girl sat at the far end of the furthest table, and simply looked over at the group, who were talking in hushed voices. Each of them would peer over in turn, before adding something to the secret discussion. Eventually, a few of them – Cheston, Combat girl and Assault – moved over, carrying trays of heavily branded food boxes and cans.

"So, Kid…" Assault started, sitting on the next chair, "What's the deal with you?"

The girl stared blankly, thinking for a moment, yet just as she opened her mouth to talk, the Combat Girl swung around on her stool, wrapping her arm around the girl's shoulder, a warm smile on her face.

"C'mon, darlin', don't be shy! We're all brothers and sisters here, well… 'cept Assassin. You best be steerin' clear of her unless you wanna catch a mighty foul case of the ugly, bless her heart."

The young girl peered a little confused back, and uttered out slowly,

"Oh… okay?"

There was a strange silence for a split second, before Cheston stroked his furry chin, leaning forward.

"Very peculiar… you sound like her all right," he motioned to the Combat Girl, "but you lack the same… perkiness and exuberance. Very, very peculiar."

Upon saying this, Assault too peered at her, stroking his chin in a similar manner. However, the pairs actions put Combat Girl on the defensive a little, and she grabbed the younger clone in a very protective manner.

"Now you two hush your holes, y'hear! Don't you listen to these two, sweetie, you're as good as any of us. I'll take care of ya, darlin', and you can come on down to my humble quarters whenever you need a listenin' ear."

"Now hold on, we weren't—"

"I said hush it, gorilla-boy!"

The young Pit-girl nodded slowly, a weak smile growing on her face. The others looked to each other fleetingly, then back, with reassuring smiles. Assault gave a smile that was dangerously close to his trademark charming one, speaking softly,

"Come on girl; let's bring you back over with the others. You may not fight with us but a fine girl like you can eat with us."

They all regrouped at the main table, Combat girl jealously hoarding the young Pit and making sure she got a seat beside her. The whole Hotshots team was here, not in armour, but still team-coloured vests with more sponsor logos on them than was entirely necessary (especially given that viewers rarely entered the premises), and they were all talking to each other in separate conversations that were nearly impossible to follow. Assassin still hadn't returned, but there was a silhouette in the far corner of someone repeatedly punching the wall. However, the conversation slowly died down as they one-by-one noticed the new arrival, and in turn introduced themselves. They went on for a good few minutes as they said hello in turn, mostly interrupting each other. It got to her time to introducer herself, though, and she simply stared. Her mouth opened slowly, and a soft voice from her side whispered in her ear,

"C'mon, darlin', tell them your name."

With a small nod, she replied quietly,

"I guess… I don't think I have a name…"

Combat girl let out a small chuckle.

"Ah, don't fret girl, you'll get one soon as someone sponsors ya, or they hold another one of them naming' competitions. Some rich lone-star billionaire paid a bundle to name me after his daughter, Cathy-Lee McClelland. But don't you worry, darlin', names 'aint important anyhow."

"Well, I guess that's alright then…" the girl nodded, and grabbed a pouch of Spunky-branded-food-sustenance. It went down easily, but still tasted like cheap, processed garbage. They continued like this, chatting and eating, long into the afternoon, until a large klaxon sounded.

"GAME IN 15 MINUTES, PRO'S REPORT TO SPAWNING ROOM. ALL NON-COMBAT PERSONNEL REPORT TO STASIS."

**Chapter One**

December 21, Year 3045

Europa Colony

"Hold your horses; it'll be done in a minute!"

The snowfall was getting heavier, almost clouding the oppressive shape of Jupiter in the morning sky, but still a slender young woman was working atop a burnt and battered old Jackbot, sounds of wrenches turning and electricity sparking echoing against the thick concrete walls of the work yard. The woman jumped down after a few seconds, and was greeted by Cathy-Lee, warmly wrapped in a sports jacket, who took her in a tight embrace for a moment.

"Good to see ya, darlin'! My, you're lookin' all grown up, out here fixin' and workin'. Been a long trip, shame you had to leave six months before our ship."

"A pleasure to see ya too, Cathy."

The Pit girl brushed a few snowflakes off her grey-yellow parka, and ran a hand through her hair for a moment.

"What say we go inside? This Europa air is freezin' my bones, I'll be glad once this holiday game is over and we get back home. Oh, and I'm countin' on y'all to win."

Nodding slightly, the Combat Girl stepped a little to the side, motioning towards the Jackbot. Like Pit Girl, its colours were also a steely grey with bright yellow highlights; however, it had scorch marks all over and several large bullet holes.

"Friend of yours?"

"This ol' rust bucket? One of the security jackbots, some outlanders blew the… well, I best not be sayin' more, they like to keep the show combat out of the real combat. "

Once more nodding, Cathy-Lee circled the pile of machinery, grinning.

"Well, she's a beauty, I trust y'all be doing your best to fix 'er up. 'Least, as long as you 'aint planning to send it out against us!"

They laughed a little with each other, walking into the dark corridor as blast doors slowly slammed against each other with a deafening bang. Small red lights flickered into life, illuminating the room, and the pair followed them towards a large concrete room filled with monitors. There were thousands of them, covering nearly every wall, each showing different possible plays and replays from countless past matches. In the center crouched a slim man, his hair ragged and one eye covered with a black patch. Four empty cans of energy boosters rolled on the floor, and he was frantically scribbling down.

"C'mon, sniper, we 'aint got all day."

"Aagh, fine! I spend all day trying to guarantee our win but you meatheads won't follow my _flawless_ tactics anyway. Will you at least _look_ at these play sheets?"

"Now now, sweetie, we can take a look at those little pictures later, maybe hang them on the fridge after the game. Now c'mon, we've got a game."

The Sniper growled, and stormed off down the hall. A few feet behind, Pit Girl tapped Cathy on the shoulder, raising an eyebrow. She uttered out,

"What's the deal with him?"

"Awe, don't worry about it darlin', he's just a heap of crazy, bless him. Now I am supposing they want you away from the team rooms before the game, but come down after our victory!"

With that, the Combat Girl left down the same hall that sniper stormed down, disappearing into the dimly lit depths. Pit sat down for a moment next to the sheets, staring at where her friend had left, and thought for a moment. There was something in her, more than just being a near-exact biological replicate, which made Cathy-Lee seem like a sister to her. It was very strange, for as far as she knew, and from what she saw from the other Pit Girls, she was supposed to be this sort of perky, independent, very confident individual; but she never quite felt that. She had made attempts to fix it, trying to make her accent (which did not come perfectly to her) fit, and was mostly happy with her life, but there was always this nagging feeling at the back of her mind.

Her train of thought was ruined by a large speaker – the voice was mostly distorted, but the gist of it came through. The management wanted her to come up to the office, and fairly urgently at that. She stood to her feet, and headed up a stairway that had retracted from the wall.

"Ah, you're here!"

The Pit Girl arrived at a large office space, the walls much cleaner and more colourful that the drab concrete of the rest of the complex. There was a large window that made up the whole back wall, showing a plain white skyline of ice, with a few structures closeby, and the combat arena about 15 miles away. At the large wooden desk was a plain man in a plain suit, with a suitably plain nametag reading "Mr Blunt, non-combat management"

"Did you want me for something, sir?"

"Take a seat."

The girl took off her thick parka, hanging it on the back, and sat – there was a slight wobble and adjustment as the hovering stool took her weight, and then floated at a standstill.

"Now, I've got a little proposi- well, let's cut to the chase, I'm not going to give you the illusion of choice. We're transferring you into one of the series entertainment contingents."

"'fraid you've lost me there."

"What I'm saying is that we're putting you into one of the teams. Not for combat, of course, we've got enough combatants. No, the Hotshots need another Pit Girl – nasty incident, one of 'Beth's rocket's managed to hit a faulty support, whole wall crashed onto the last one. But you'll be fine."

"Well… sure, I s'pose so." She smiled, screaming happily inside her head. There had been a sort of sense that most of what she'd been working on lately was mundane and fairly useless, and it would be a part of the actual show. The main reason however was that over the last couple of years she'd gotten very close with that particular team, since they'd been friends since her spawning.

"Excellent—Oh, and one more thing. Your contract with us is at about a halfway point, so I suppose I should tell you a few things. You'll be with this team for the rest of your time with us, and then you're going into full time service in a classified manner. Your funder will speak to you in the next few days about that. Now, be gone, I have work…"

The woman slipped out of the room, and jumped a little in joy. She hurried on down the stairs, almost tripping on several occasions, following the maze of corridors and the trail of red lights until she reached a small briefing room. Inside, the Assault, Will Freeman, stood at the shimmering board, surrounded by Tim Barnes - Sniper, Frank Crowly - Tank, Cheston, and of course her Combat girl chum Cathy-Lee, all discussing tactics whilst sniper berated them all for not using his own. Pit Girl entered quietly, a soft smile on her lips, as she approached the group, and Assault took notice, interrupting himself.

"And it seems here's our new blood, but I guess we're all quite familiar with this one" he smirked, motioning her over. She slowly stepped forwards, smiling with what had become sort of her trademark soft smile, much less "ecstatic" that it should be, but with a more sincere tone to it.

"I'm really, wow, I can't wait to spend the next few seasons with you guys. I s'pose I'll have to be headin' over to the Arena before you guys for the pregame check-ups, but I'll be sure to meet back with y'all after the game."

It was a ten minute hover car drive to the stadium over the ice plains to the stadium – a large cylindrical hole bored into the glacier, the stands half-encased and packed with freezing rowdy crowds. The car touched down in a large metal garage, where officials carrying tablets and match statistics randomly shouted out names, and the occasional over class limousine would be greeted by hordes of assistants scrambling over each other to be the new favourite employee. The Pit Girl, surrounded by a few Hotshots team officials, stopped momentarily and stared for a moment – there was a very rich group of people, dressed immaculately and barging past the 'rabble', demanding something unintelligible from the ticket booth. They were yelling,

"Get out of my way, scum, you'll only turn your seat into a hideous shanty hut or something. For goodness sake, you'd think these bums would get enough of watching violence with their petty little drug fights."

Pit Girl almost frowned in disgust, the only thing really stopping her being the perkiness in her DNA – she may be 'different', but traces still made it hard to express anger… or disgust. She simply moved along with the rest of the team officials. There was a small room behind the spawn, with an old industrial stairwell. (the Arena, as well as most of the surrounding facilities, was part of an initial mining effort which fell flat due to lack of funding. The owners sold it for next to nothing and now Monday Night Combat make a killing off a "winter extravaganza") A flickering sign read "Exhibition Balcony. One of the team directors, a scrawny little man with a clipboard, spoke quickly, not once looking up.

"Right, up the stairs, do your thing for the Cameras, then back here in 5 for Pit duty. Go, go, I got bigger things to do now…"

The girl opened her mouth momentarily, then sighed, and followed the stairs up. They were old and rickety, and it took a good while to walk all the way up. Finally she reached the top; a round platform, chain bridges connecting it to the winners platform and a special VIP stand. A group of camera-bots hovered around the edge, swaying in the ice-cold wind. Upon stepping out into the outdoors, the Pit Girl immediately started to shiver, wrapping her arms tight. A few feet away, the Icemen Pit Girl was standing calmly, and looked over.

"Why howdy there, darlin'. New to the field of combat are ya?"

The girl stood blankly for a moment; there was something very haunting – the woman talking to her looked exactly like her, save for the Blue colouring to her Red. Even more so than her old friend, the Combat girl, who although unerringly similar, was just different enough, but there was a strange feeling here that was like she was looking into a mirror.

"First game, right? Don't sweat, teams only matter for them fighters down in the arena. We're all good up here."

"Uh… thanks. It's mighty cold up here, 'aint you freezing?"

There was a small pang of annoyance in her head. This accent, the ridiculous southern accent that her DNA and her peers were screaming at her to adopt, just felt so forced. Still, she thought, what choice was there? Better to conform and stay alive than become a "faulty product" and be scrapped.

The Icemen girl laughed, pointing to a small dial on her glove.

"You really just are out of the tank, aren't ya? These outfits are electronically warmed, keeps us lookin' fine while the weather 'aint."

With a sigh of relief, the girl turned up her own, and instantly felt much more comfortable. The cameras suddenly came much closer, and a director wrapped tightly in a jacket came out, shouting,

"Fifteen seconds! Ladies positions, you know the drill, chirpy and sexy… ten seconds, go!"

Loud music suddenly started to fill the arena, accompanied by loud cheering; then, a very recognisable voice started to resonate, introducing itself as Mickey Cantor. The words didn't matter much to the Pit Girl, who was busy trying imitating her blue partner, smiling and posing in front of the camera. It was all over very quickly, and before she knew it the cameras were off, sounds of gunfire filled the arena floor below and she was being rushed down back to the spawning rooms. Now she just had to cheer on the team, and wait for the final whistle to blow.

It was a crushing defeat in the end.

**Chapter Two**

December 22

The team locker rooms were filled with a sombre mood the next morning. The Pit Girl strolled in, carrying a few cases of equipment, trying to embody the chirpy persona she was supposed to embody.

"Mornin' boys, we all are feelin' fresh for another day's work?"

The team replied with a joined groan, with the exception of Cathy-Lee McClelland, who jumped up to Pit.

"You bet, darlin'. Here, let me help you with those."

She picked up a few of the cases, and they kept walking down towards the engineering room. A few mechanics were working on an assortment of pipes and cogs, impossible to tell what they were actually doing. The pair dropped the cases onto a metal table, and then each sat down on it, swinging legs in unison.

"The team's in a mighty foul mood… that loss get to them?"

"Seems so. They 'aint taking it well. Heck, even Assault seems down, and he 'aint never failed to rally the morale."

They both sat quite quietly for a moment, the quiet rumbling of the machinery echoing, a slight breeze from the vents blowing their pigtails forward in unison. Cathy-Lee jumped up, laughing.

"Enough of that, heck, we're all still alive here. Come on, you're still workin' on that ol' Jack?"

"Not so much since going red, but it's still a side project."

"Then c'mon, we're gonna finish it up. Heck of a heap more exciting than sticking around in this steam room or trying to kick-start the ol' team."

With a slight chirp of happiness, the Pit Girl jumped up, and led the way down yet more repetitive corridors. She thought momentarily that even though it was absolutely freezing on the pitch, there was a much nicer aesthetic feel to the place compared to these steel and concrete labyrinths that the MNC Corporation seemed to love. She had only been in two locations, but this industrial colony felt awfully similar to the spawning complex. Almost hadn't crossed her mind that she'd be back there in a month…

"Hey, cuckoo, anyone in there?"

They had stopped, and Cathy-Lee was tapping Pit on the head. She laughed shyly, brushing a loose hair aside.

"Oh, sorry… got a little lost there."

"Well, we're here aint we?

They looked through the large doorway on the right. It was the same work yard, covered in a thick layer of snow. Since the last game, the Jackbot hadn't moved, and was covered in icicles. Grabbing a ladder and a toolbox, Pit Girl trudged through the white ground and set up. Combat too, grabbed a kit and opened the front hatch.

"Boy, this wiring's more tangled than a mule with a jump-rope."

Pit Girl looked over, raising an eyebrow with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry darlin', that wasn't my best comparison."

They laughed a moment, and got back to working. Pit was tinkering with one of the Ammo-mule rocket loaders, and smiled a little, speaking,

"You know, they told me last night they don't need this ol' bucket anymore."

"Oh, well that's mighty disappointin'"

Pit Girl laughed loudly, shaking her head.

"Oh heavens no! Instead, I get to keep this all for myself, 'long as I keep it disarmed"

Coincidently, at this moment she was removing the loader, tossing it aside. It hit the snow, quickly collected by a small salvage-bot that disappeared as quickly and unnoticed as it arrived.

"Well that's marvellous, darlin'. What're you gonna do with it?"

"Heck, I could make it our team mascot? But I'm likin' the grey and yellow scheme, makes it feel more of my own. I might even name the old rust pot."

They laughed and worked well into the day, the dim sun and goliath shadow of Jupiter peering down at them from the sky. There was very little to do that day, as all the games were over until the LazeRazor Winter Holiday Blitz Bonanza on the 25th, and since they had lost the match, they wouldn't be participating. There were a few VIP audience tour groups going around, mostly rich metropolitan Tokyo-types who tried to take pictures of absolutely everything, and the occasional US celebrity trying to buy off some of the clones while officials tried to distract them. It wasn't too much of a hassle, they were both used to being public figures; it also helped when half the time it was someone else who looked and acted exactly like you.

"Phew, this thing just does not want to run!"

Cathy-Lee lifted her cap and wiped her brow a little, shaking her head. Pit Girl was deeply focussed on repairing some circuits in the machine's head.

"Just a sec… one more… this should do it…"

The eyes sparked a little, and Cathy jumped to her feet, stepping back. Pit gave a few more tweaks, and the Jackbot flashed into life, accidently knocking the girl off as it snapped into position – she landed in the snow unharmed but with a grin on her face. Her teammate smiled warmly,

"Oh, I'm so proud of you darlin'. Come on, let's see what it does!"

"Okay, well… Jackbot, identify!"

The machine sparked momentarily, a few sparks bursting from its joints. It seemed to almost die for a moment, but then a deep monotonous drone came from speakers under the head.

"JACKBOT XL, MODEL 128-B, SERVICE NUMBER A-A983, REPORTING."

The two girls high-fived, cheering;

"Great! I suppose we should leave it there, it's getting late. Heck, I never know what time it is on these moons." Cathy-Lee laughed, picking up her toolkit and heading towards the door. Pit Girl followed, carrying the ladder.

"This was totally worthwhile, heck; I've always wanted my own robot."

A hearty laugh came from the Combat girl, who was dropping off her tools into the locker.

"Since when!"

"Since always!"

"Don't be such a child, darlin'! Still, getting that heap working was quite a feat."

The pair packed up their repair tools, and closed the blast door, brushing off the snow on their shoulders and hats. The lights of the corridor flickered on, and the two girls walked back towards the Locker room.

The locker room was empty upon their return, which was puzzling. The two peered around, but there was nothing to see – save for a solitary black figure twirling a knife in the corner. Both instantly knew who the black concealed woman was, and rolled eyes simultaneously as they stepped forwards. The Assassin held up a hand, pointed to Cathy-Lee and motioned for her to go away.

"Why, that's mighty rude! I'm part of this team and I 'aint leavin'"

The concealed woman shook her head, laughing lowly.

"You –will- leave. Now. I want a word with your little friend."

"Fine, but you watch your attitude, Missy."

The Combat Girl strutted off, patting Pit on the shoulder and whispering,

"You be careful around her, darlin'. It 'aint her fault, she just gets jealous around those who can show their face in daylight."

A smirk grew on Pit Girl's face, and she waved her friend goodbye; she turned back to Assassin and raised an eyebrow.

"So, what' ya want?"

"You can drop the accent there. I've seen you around here, and you must know as well as I do that you're not just another wise-ass southern piece of eye-candy."

The Pit Girl scowled, folding her arms. It wasn't exactly an insult towards her, but she had gotten pretty defensive about her close friendship with Combat Girl; even the Icemen Pit Girl seemed pleasant enough. Besides, she had tried so hard to get the accent right, would be a shame to drop it now.

"I 'aint dropping nothing, missy; now what're you on about?"

"You can play dumb all you want, doesn't change the fact that I know about you. See, I'm not like these mindless gun-happy thugs – and as far as I've seen, my kin aren't either. Seems a silly mistake on whoever picked my DNA, but fact of the matter is that one day, I'm going to get out of here. I figured from the looks of you, you didn't belong here either, and unless you want to risk being found as faulty and sent to processing, you'd want to get out of here too."

The Pit Girl leaned on the lockers, peering in a puzzled manner.

"What on earth are you talkin' about?" she questioned, her voice in a slightly more concerned tone, much less of the southern accent coming through. "Processing? Escaping?"

Assassin stepped closer, staring down in a nearly threatening manner – but her face was still a blank mask as she spoke. Her voice was much lower, and much darker than before.

"There was another, the a few years ago. They cloned an Assault, but they must have messed up the personality replication; he was far, far too arrogant, a real 'hot-head'. The crowd hated him, and the producers took him away one day, for processing. Nobody saw him since."

She stepped even closer, almost walking past, but stopping and placing a hand on Pit's shoulder.

"I don't like you. Hell, when I saw they'd cloned another one of you shallow crowd-pleasers, I was so enraged that I well… I lost it, broke my wrist punching the wall. But you're unique, and I respect that, because it means that you can at least be useful in getting me out of here."

With that, she walked off. Pit Girl looked at her disappear, a puzzled expression on her face, and sighed. There was only one person she could talk to now…

*Alright, alright, I'm coming!"

Cathy opened the door to her quarters, to see Pit Girl leaning on the wall outside. She had her head lowered a little, eyes peering up.

"What can I do ye for, darlin'?"

Pit Girl's voice was quite soft, a fair bit of the usual enthusiasm gone.

"Can I come in? I need to talk…"

"Well, sure, as I told you, my doors always open."

The girl walked in, and sat down on the small springy bed. The room was painted orange, with lots of hotshots' posters around the room. Half-built contraptions and bots filled the floor. Combat Girl came and sat next to her, smiling.

"What's on your mind?"

Pit girl rubbed the back of her neck, nervously.

"I need to know I can trust you…"

The older clone faced her, looking into Pit's eyes with a warm, sisterly smile. Pit Girl knew it in her heart; she could trust her. Heck, they were almost the same person, and she could trust herself. She lay back, clutching her pigtails.

"You know I'm not perfect, right? You know… I'm not as chirpy as you, or the other Pit Girl yesterday… I can barely keep up the accent. Assassin kept saying things, she wants me to help her 'escape', and then wants me to leave to or the producers will kill me." Her lips quivered a little and she pulled tighter at her hair.

Cathy-Lee lay back next to her, and looked to Pit with a warming smile.

"Darlin', I've known you were different since the day you strode out of the spawning room. I 'aint gonna judge you on it, heck, I'm glad of it – much more enjoyable to have a friend who 'aint an exact copy of myself." She laughed, and sat up, pulling Pit up with her.

"And don't let that ol' Assassin get to you, Darlin'. I told you before, that girl is a whole mess of grumpy, something not right in that ugly ol' head of her, bless her heart. Trust me, you'll be fine."

The Combat then shook her head, chuckling softly.

"Besides, don't worry about the accent; you might be shy buy you're just as southern as I am!"

They both smiled happily, and stared around. The wall clock – a small digital series of numbers straight on the wall - was reading 13pm Jupiter Standard Time, which was fairly late in the evening. Pit Girl stood up, and gave a quick sincere hug to Combat.

"Thanks a lot, Cathy… you're a great friend. I guess we should go join the others… wonder where they could have gotten to…"

**Chapter Three**

December 23

It was late that morning, when Pit Girl finally woke up. They had found the rest of the team in the Cafeteria last night, and spent the early hours talking and relaxing while the Icemen were constantly training for the big game on the 25th. It had been suggested that their team just head back on a shuttle to Earth (it had also been suggested the team hang themselves by unlucky gamblers who had lost a bit on the last match, but it wasn't to happen). However, there was at least one more event they had to stay for, where a group of overclass school kids were getting a tour of the facility from Mickey – their principal was also CEO of a multinational corporation and as such remarkably wealthy – and Pit Girl had to find a suitable transport vessel for her Jackbot.

Pit Girl walked down to the table carrying a tray, seating herself next to Cathy as usual; they were all sitting pretty silently, eating, checking the monitors hanging from the ceiling for when things were going to happen, and when their shuttle would be leaving.

"So that's it, we're all hittin' the road tomorrow morning?" she asked, taking off her cap and downing a gulp of Spunky GO! Morning Energy Juice. Assault shrugged, nodding,

"That's right, Ladies. Get set for a nice three months of Stasis relaxation, because the new season starts once we get back to earth." He shrugged, downing a protein shake. Pit Girl took out a small tablet and, with a few swipes oh her fingers on the screen, started browsing through lists of what seemed to be cheap cargo freighters. Combat Girl peered over, raising an eyebrow.

"Lookin' to buy a ship? You ain't gonna afford one on a clone's salary, darlin!"

"I know, I know, I just need to hire one of these guys to take my Jack back home."

"Ah, I see. Well, that one there looks a good'un, you should check it out after this 'tour'. Can hardly believe myself these little kids would wanna see a losing team." Combat smirked, finishing her breakfast and placing her hat on the table. It was weird to see, since without the slightly different hats and attire the two girls looked perfectly identical. Both of them looked at the image on the screen, a fairly well sized bulky ship, unpainted grey and with two large cylindrical pulse-jets jutting below and to the side – the name read "SZ-II-Loader", owned by a Mr S. Richards.

"I'll find this man this afternoon then, after y'all meet those tourin' folk."

Almost immediately on cue, a crowd of loud and excitable young kids, none older than about thirteen at most. They were all clearly from rich heritage, hence the smart maroon uniforms with the crest of "New Lunar Academy" emblazoned on the chest. A young, smart-looking man, perhaps twenty-two at most, was desperately trying to control them, clutching an e-clip board and calling out names; he was trying to make sure they were all present, but his voice couldn't drown out the marauding kids.

Pit Girl, having finished her breakfast, stood up and gazed over. There was a strange feeling in her chest when her eyes locked over the teaching assistant; he was fairly attractive, short tidy hair, smart clothes, but the seller it seemed was that he was "normal". In the grounds, she was surrounded by people who were defined by one trait – Assault was the slick handsome guy, tank was the gruff, unlucky but loveable sucker, Cheston was, well, a gorilla. Even herself, she thought; she was a Mary-sue, the clever eye-candy. She shook her head, trying to push away those thoughts, as she walked over to the tour group ahead of the other; for reasons she couldn't quite put a finger on, she put on her most charming southern accent.

"Why howdy, darlin'. Is this the group of young'uns?" She motioned over to the kids, charging around the room like wild animals. The teaching assistant scratched the back of his neck, sighing; one of his eyes kept peering at the holo-watch on his wrist showing a clustered timetable.

"Yeah, I suppose… they're more monsters than children, and I've got to ferry them around half the moon while their –actual- teacher is awaiting ransom with some outlanders. Not that they'll get any, the school will probably just get me to replace him." He lowered his wrist and shouted out, "C'mon now, seriously, if you don't settle down we'll get no time to meet these guys and we'll be back on the shuttle without seeing anything – remember what happened when you wanted to see Mister Cantor!"

The children slowly quietened down, getting into a tight group behind their teacher. They were all led towards Assault, who started his usual routine of not-quite-boasting, but still talking in such a manner that made all the kids adore him – that was, after all, what he was. The exciting hero, the leader, the fan favourite. While he and the rest of the Pros were interviewed by such deep and probing questions (such as one particular boy who asked "could you beat captain spark in a game of tic tac toe?"), Pit Girl decided to hang back, some weird feeling drawing her to this young man, the teacher. A slight red blush to her cheeks, she tentatively asked,

"So, what's yer name cutie?"

She immediately shied away, head rushing with panic. Why had she said 'cutie?' she'd never used that word in her life. He raised an eyebrow, seeming to sense the discomfort, and smiled casually in a strangely reassuring way.

"Well, I'm Felix Oakley, not sure if I'm exactly a 'cutie', but I'll take the compliment. How about yourself, got a name?"

Pit Girl scratched the back of her head, sighing while speaking softly,

"I asked the same thing a few hours after they birthed me, didn't get much of an answer."

"That's a bit strange…"

"I get used to it, everyone just calls me Pit Girl."

"No, not that," he interrupted, "your accent has faded quite a bit. What, you put it on?"

Pit hesitated for a moment, unable to think of a way to answer the question. She stuttered out,

"I… I've gotta split, darlin'… I'll see ya soon."

She ran off in a hurry, heading down the exit corridor.

It took Pit Girl a good few minutes to realise where it was she was going, but she was starting to feel a little less awkward. It wasn't even that big of a deal, but if he found she was faking the accent, others might question her genetic stability, and that could only lead to bad ends. She figured that while she was out, she might as well find that ship, and get the Jackbot mounted on it. Looking down at her tablet to remind herself of the ships name and such, she turned down the doorway to the left, only to stop still. There were hurried footsteps behind her, and she turned; it was the man again, Felix. What was he doing?

"Hey, wait up!" he called out, and almost instinctively did so. She sighed, head turned away from him as he stopped.

"What are you doing, chasing me?"

"Chasing? Oh no, no… I was just, I mean, you bolted off so quickly, something wrong?"

Pit Girl shook her head, uttering,

"No, no, nothin'. It's just… been a rough couple of days, is all."

The man put his hand on her shoulder, giving that same reassuring smile as before. There was a look in his eyes though that made it seem that even he didn't quite believe he was about to say this to someone in her position.

"Then here, I'll buy you a coffee."

This was very, very strange for Pit Girl; she didn't quite understand what he meant by this, and added to that, she'd never stepper outside of her designated work areas before – going for "coffee" with this man would mean effectively going AWOL for a short time.

"Really, I'm not sure…"

"Come on, it will only be for a few minutes. I've got to go pick up those monsters in about half an hour anyway – god, those overclass parents sure do spoil them too much."

The clone thought it over for a few seconds, before attempting to imitate his smile,

"Sure, if that's all then I should have time. I've got some work of my own to do soon too."

They headed down another corridor, one that Pit Girl hadn't seen before, labelled "Concession Stands and Arena Seating" – There was a booth that was obviously meant for security but it was currently unmanned, with a small sign saying 'On break'. After a few minutes of walking through dispersed lower-class crowds, they reached a brightly-lit café with a great neon sign above it that flickered "CaffeiNATION". They took a few seconds to order at the on-table menu, and just sat for a few minutes, an awkward silence hanging in the air. Pit Girl kept peering around, looking at the passers-by who kept staring at her.

"Don't mind them… I guess it's lucky you're not one of the team; there are a lot of angry Hotshots fans causing fights in the docking areas. Heck, we almost got caught up in it on the way up here, half the kids wanted to join in."

It was then that the girl noticed she was in her neutral colours – something she must have done subconsciously this morning. It didn't matter much, for some reason she preferred sticking out from the two teams; plus, it helped her from not being too conspicuous out here in the public. Taking a small sip of coffee, she looked up at the man. He had been staring at her all this time, just watching; it was slightly distressing, but something kept her eyes locked on him.

"Look, I'm just going to cut to the chase here… I know you're just a clone, but I dunno, I really like you. Is there any chance you and me could, you know…"

Pit Girl raised her eyebrow, slightly confused,

"Know what, sugar?"

"You know… go out? Hell, I can't stand the overclass girls; they're so very condescending about my family history. This is a long shot, I know, but there's definitely something here."

With a raised eyebrow, Pit girl shook her head.

"I honestly have no idea what you're on about, darlin', but… I can't, really. Besides, you don't wanna be stuck with some clone that only exists as eye candy for TV…"

Felix sat back, folding his arms with a slightly concerned expression on his face. Something in his eye was peering into her, and he leaned forwards again, looking hard into her.

"Something's definitely off with you, isn't it? The accent, the lack of constant cheeriness… I'm sorry, am I prying too much?"

With a sigh, Pit Girl lowered her head, quickly glancing around to make sure there weren't any working cameras around. She couldn't risk still being discovered as being an imperfect clone, despite her doubts about what Assassin had told her. Her voice softened into that less accentual, yet still very much unique tone.

"I don't know, I mean… I think something happened when they spawned me, five years ago. It's very noticeable when I stick around our teams Combat Girl, who tries her best to help me fit in, bless her heart. But there's just this… I can't put my finger on it…"

"Ma'am? It's MNC cloning department, we've got some important information you might want to know about."

"I wasn't expecting a call from you for another five years; what is it you've decided to interrupt me with, I'm very busy at the moment."

"It's about your delivery, I'm not sure if you noticed we had her on display during the Europa match two nights ago. But that's beside the point – we wanted to inform you that although your request for a more individual personality went as planned, it's having undesirable consequences. We're watching her right now, and it seems she's starting to develop a very… outlander-style yearning for freedom. I don't think she's noticing herself, but the roots are there, and we'll need to speed up the rest of the process. How's next month for a delivery?"

"That's… awfully soon, but it will work. I'll have to move some things around in my ten-year schedule, but I'll be mighty happy to have an early present."

**Dream Sequence *1**

Stasis Dream Sequence: 12/23/3045

"What…. Here again?"

A harsh sun beat down upon the girl, as she opened her eyes. She could feel the long grass against her skin, and sat up to see the same sight that visited her every night; A large, colonial estate, and a heavy-set old man beckoning her forwards. He was wearing a white suit and hat, his beard a matching shade, and he was calling her over, "daughter, daughter…"

So, here, this was her father. She stood to her feet and looked down at herself; gone was the tight pit-girl top and shorts, she was now wearing a light summer dress, golden yellow in colour and drifting in the warm breeze. She strode over, running a hand through her untied hair.

"Father… I'm here, what did you want?"

The old man gave a warm grin, his teeth shining through perfectly in an expression that read 'you're safe with me'. They exchanged a brief hug, before he took her hand.

"My, you're attracting a lot of attention from the neighbours, a whole mess a' fine young men have come round to court your hand. Now darlin', you want me to let 'em in or send them packing?"

They kept walking into the large manor as she replied,

"Aw, papa, I don't think I wanna deal with all this right now. How about y'all keep them in the dining room for now and I'll get down there later."

"That'll do fine, - - -"

There it was. Every night, that sentence was blurred; he must be saying her name, but she couldn't make it out, she didn't have one. Every night, she tried making it out – was it two syllables, three? Could she read his lips and find it out? No… no…

She walked out onto the front porch, sitting on an old white wooden bench. Looking out, there were endless fields as far as the eye could see; fields of green grass and yellow flowers. There was a white picket fence that she had never crossed that led into this vast free expanse – the gate was always closed, and she had never felt the need to go through. But now, it was open; the gate to her freedom was swinging freely, calling her over.

"Go on, cross it. I'll protect you and we'll be free together."

Looking up, Pit Girl saw him – it was Felix, again. This was another first, for someone from her life to appear in her dreams. She stood, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still – he gazed at her, she gazed at him, and they clasped hands. Her voice so natural, yet still rife with southern mannerisms, spoke softly to him.

"My, my… I'll be might' happy to take you with me, darlin'."

The stood together, hands held tenderly, and stood at the gate. The sun was still glaring down at them, air shimmering in the heat.

"We can be free, but you have to take the first step."

Pit Girl glanced back at the house, at her majestic manor, her rich governor father, the many fine men sitting inside.

"But I have it perfect here, am I not free? Isn't my life perfect already?"

It became clear that moment that these were all representative of her real life. The manor was her secure home, the father was MNC Corporation providing her with all that she needed, the willing bachelors were the swarms of fans leering over her. And right then, it all seemed so fake, so walled in – this wasn't a real life. It was exploitation.

"You're right, there's nothing for me back there."

She looked back at the expanses of grassland. It was hope, that's all it was. She could end her life of essential slavery – she was practical eye candy, that's all. Born to fix things and excite the male members of the audience. That could all finish, she just had to take…

One…

Step…

They walked onto the grass, and everything changed. Felix disappeared to dust, the gate locked tight. Even the sky had changed the sun turning into storm clouds.

"Oh god… oh god… what's happening!"

Rain began to attack the ground, getting her hair wet and tangled, ruining her summer dress. She felt no choice but to run, keep running.

Keep on running…

Dogs arrived, chasing her; she struggled to keep running through tangled grass that turned to thorns, through mud that clung to her feet and made it hard to lift off the ground. This was even more of a lie, more of a deception; there was no freedom out here. There was nothing but pain and suffering, and eventually death.

That was her choice; that was her life. She was forced between a rock and a hard place and never noticed, always had been, always would be.

She was a slave to the producers, or she was dead. There was no freedom.

**Chapter four**

December 24

"Ugh… I hate stasis…"

Pit Girl climbed out of the stasis pod, a small bed-like piece of furniture with green tinted glass over it and several pipes leading into the base. Stasis was just like sleeping, not that she would know, except that it completely negated any sort of ageing process and provided maximum possible rejuvenation. It also guaranteed the exact same dream every night, and Pit Girl was sure that someone must be watching or controlling them, as the message constantly behind her dreams was that staying within the confines of the MNC Corporation was the only safe option.

She sat on the edge of her bed, holding her forehead in one hand as her head ached slightly. It wasn't so much the topic of the dreams, but the repetitiveness. There was at least a difference last night, but it was always the same before that, and it drove her mad. Her life was so repetitive – setting up turrets, posing for the cameras, repairing bots, all with that same chirpy southern attitude she was expected to have at all times. Maybe it would have been easier if she was the exact same as the other Pit Girls…

The door slid open as she finished getting dressed, choosing to once more don her grey and yellow gear; it caused less hassle outside of the pits, and guaranteed people would know exactly which Pit Girl they were talking to. Cathy-Lee was standing there, in her shirt and shorts without armour, smiling softly.

"Mornin' there, girl. How are y'all feelin' this mornin'?"

Pit Girl smiled back, greeting her best friend with a warm hug. There was something about the fact that Combat was a clone, but she didn't care and was just always so happy with life. It was something Pit KNEW she should be like, and really wished she was, so hoped that being around her would let some of the positive energy rub off onto her.

"I'm fine, darlin', just… long night. Four hours in stasis 'aint nearly enough to sleep off a whole night movin' that ol' Jackbot across the facility into a ship"

"Well, we're all movin' onto the team coach to head on back to earth, it'd be my pleasure to bring you along with the team. You're one of us, remember" Cathy smirked. "Plus, we're going to see some of the best Pros around, coach figured we could do with seeing how the old boys do it, step up the game. Big names too, guys up top think it'll do us good to see some 'real pros.'"

"Well, then I guess I've got no choice but to ride with you! Heck, it'll be fun, though I aint really needing to see a bunch of big name Pros."

They had kept walking all this time, Pit Girl not quite paying attention to where they were and really just following Cathy-Lee. Because of this, she was fairly surprised when they eventually ended up in a large open balcony with several interstellar coaches lines up on the parking lot. One of them was sparsely surrounded by a few team officials, and the rest of the team were making their way onto the vehicle.

A wiry man scrawling stuff onto a tablet shouted out.

"Come on, girls, we're running late! Get one or get stuck behind!"

They quickened their pace a little, hurrying through the cold wind and stepping into the unbelievable warmth of the spaceship.

(Chapter 4 is being worked on, stay tuned!)


End file.
